


Answers

by skysyren



Series: Unders Our Flippers [2]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Autistic Skwisgaar, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 17:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4714658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skysyren/pseuds/skysyren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Days after his therapeutic night with Toki, Skwisgaar gets some answers about himself that he didn't know he was looking for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Answers

“He’s gonna miss the show. _Again_.” Nathan groaned loudly, growing impatient waiting for his diva of a bandmate to wake the hell up and get his ass in the living room. Toki, Pickles, and Murderface were all present and accounted for, taking various positions on the couch as they waited for the not-so-fashionably late Skwisgaar to make an appearance. The band had tried to grow closer as a “family” in recent months, taking to watching television together multiple times a week as a form of bonding. While Skwisgaar was far from resistant to the idea, his tendency to be in his own little world with his guitar and arrive late to these bonding moments, or miss out on them entirely, easily wore away at Nathan’s patience.

Unsurprisingly, Skwisgaar came into the room with his ever-present guitar strapped around him, and plopped himself down on the couch between Toki and Pickles as he continued his mindless strumming. His fingers moved effortlessly across the frets as he sat wordless between the two.

All attention turned to the television as the familiar jingle of the Dethklok Minute chimed from the speakers, cutting off any snarky comments his bandmates would have made at that time. Skwisgaar stopped strumming his guitar for the moment, knowing his bandmates would get annoyed if they couldn’t hear the host over his playing. Last time he had played through the whole segment, he was met with four rather annoyed and confused stares, though at the time he didn’t even know what he’d done to piss anyone off, figuring they were just being their usual dildo-selves. The sudden sound of the host’s voice broke Skwisgaar out of his memories, and he lifted his face to view the screen.

“Skwisgaar Skwigelf has become well known not only for his mastery of the guitar, but his mastery in the bedroom too. It’s no secret that Skwigelf has slept with more women than the rest of Dethklok combined, and has left a trail of fatherless children in his wake.”

“Ugh, _another_ Schkwischgaar epischode?” Murderface whispered loudly from his seat at the far end of the couch. 

“Well I ams de most interestinks members of de band, why shouldn’ts dey talks about me?” Skwisgaar responded matter of factly.

“Doods, shuddup, I’m tryin’ ta listen!” Pickles mumbled while shoving his shoulder into Murderface’s side.

“It seems that many of these children share a common trait with one another, and I don’t mean that signature blond hair. Recent reports and interviews have indicated that many of Skwigelf’s alleged children have been diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder, and that number has been steadily rising over the past few years. This has led many to believe that Skwisgaar Skwigelf might be autistic himself!”

Skwisgaar sat in stunned silence over the information being presented at him, but he couldn’t quite process it. It certainly wasn’t something he’d ever thought about in the past, and he wasn’t sure it was something he was ready to think about right now. He began to zone out, unable to pay close attention to the rest of the segment. He could feel that his face was frozen in a sort of shocked expression, but he didn’t have the wherewithal to relax his face at this point.

“Fans have speculated this for years, citing Skwigelf’s apparent obsession with anything at all guitar related, his difficulty making eye contact, and his taciturn nature as obvious signs of the disorder. Will Skwisgaar confirm this himself? Does he even know for sure if he’s got it or not? Hopefully we’ll get a comment from him soon! And that’s the Dethklok Minute!”

Though the television remained turned on, the silence that had overtaken the room was deafening. Skwisgaar sat very still, continuing to stare at the screen long after the show had already ended, his face still twisted in shock. Pickles stepped on the pedal to cut the television feed, doing nothing to ease the obvious tension emanating from Skwisgaar’s seat in the middle of the couch. Normally, he would have started strumming his guitar to relieve his stress at this point, but he couldn’t bring himself to move a single finger yet.

“Well, that was...uhm...informative…?” Nathan said, daring to be the first to break the silence. “Kinda, you know, unexpected too. For them to bring that up. On TV and everything.”

“Yeah…that schure was schomething.” Murderface mumbled, also feeling the need to clear the tension in the room.

“So, are you actually...you know...?” Pickles asked. “I mean, since we’re on the subject and all.”

Skwisgaar broke suddenly from his trance and snapped his head back to face Pickles. “No, I amen’ts.” he said bluntly, causing the redhead to back away slightly at the blond’s harsh tone.

“Ams you sures?” Toki asked meekly from Skwisgaar’s other side. “I means, you evers had someone tells you dats you amen’ts? Or ams you just assuming?”

Skwisgaar turned back again to face Toki, somewhat surprised at his comments. What did he mean, was he sure? Of course Skwisgaar was sure! Wasn’t he? That shred of doubt shook Skwisgaar’s mind to its very core.

“I means...maybes...I...I don’ts knows. It doesn’t matters anyways.” he responded, trying his best to hide his anxiety over the matter. He could feel the need to play his guitar get stronger as the seconds passed, like a burning sensation in both his hand and his mind. Without thinking, his hand wandered to the frets, and he began to pluck at the strings in his usual pattern.

“See, right dere!” Pickles interjected as Skwisgaar continued to play. “The guitar thing, yer doin’ it again! Yer cahnstantly playing the guitar, even when we’re in meetings or just hangin’ out, just like they said on TV. Dat’s not just practicing either, dood, yer literally ahlways attached to that guitar and playing it, without even realizing.”

However aware he was of this behavior and how obvious it was to everyone in the room, he couldn’t stop himself from playing, the need to do something with his fingers getting worse as the conversation continued. Blood rushed to his cheeks and he could feel himself blushing with embarrassment, and he wanted nothing more than for everyone to just be quiet for a second, to just let him gather his thoughts. The whole world seemed so loud to him when he got like this, he just wanted all other sounds to stop, to just hear the sounds of his guitar.

“No, bullshits.” he blurted out. “I wouldsa knowns about dis sooners ifs it was true. Bullshits.”

“Okay, but, Skwisgaar--” Nathan tried to respond.

“No, bullshits!” Skwisgaar yelled, clearly losing his composure as his fretting grew more rapid and his breathing more erratic.

“Maybes you should sees Twinkletits about this? Gets an answer one ways or the other?” Toki suggested, trying his best to help ease Skwisgaar’s anxiousness. He could easily tell that Skwisgaar was uncomfortable with the conversation, but he felt that it was in Skwisgaar’s best interest to know for sure. “Remembers, I went a while ago to sees him and founds out I has PTSD. I felts much better after talkings to him, I bets you woulds too.” His own experiences with Twinkletits had been nothing but positive, after the whole banana sticker ordeal had been all but forgotten. Toki knew the others were less inclined to talk about their feelings with anyone, let alone a therapist, but it was worth a try to get his friend to feel better.

“Okays, fines, I gos to see him!” Skwisgaar announced rather loudly. “But dis ams still bullshits.”

* * *

Skwisgaar lingered in the hall outside of Twinkletits’ office, still in utter disbelief that he was actually going through with this. He knew he could get a little obsessive over his guitar, and that he wasn’t much of a talker, but he had never even considered that any of this was something diagnosable. The mere thought of having his life completely change when this session was up weighed heavily on his mind; multiple times on the walk over he had contemplated just skipping the appointment altogether, content to be in the dark about the subject. But each time, he realized that he absolutely was not content with that, overwhelmed with the need to know for sure since the episode aired three days prior. Over those three days, he could practically reach out and touch the tension that floated in the air; nobody knew what to talk to him about, whether to mention the subject or not. The fans had been speculating about this for years? How could they see something he couldn’t? However apprehensive he was about finding out, he knew nothing would return to normal in Mordhaus unless he did.

He knocked meekly at the door to Twinkletits’ office, almost hoping no one would answer and he could turn and walk away from the situation. Much to his chagrin, Twinkletits came to the door in seconds, greeting Skwisgaar with his signature plastic smile. Skwisgaar lowered his glance downward and waited for something to happen; although he’d been to see Twinkletits before, it had usually been with at least one other member of Dethklok, so he had no idea how to act here when he was alone.

“So, Skwisgaar, why don’t you come in and take a seat.” Twinkletits said calmly, gesturing towards the couch across from his chair. "Make yourself comfortable, you can lie down, sit up, whatever you want to do. We’re gonna be here for a while.”

Skwisgaar nervously entered the room and sat stiffly on the couch, his arms held tight against his chest, legs fully extended and crossed at the ankles.

“So, let’s start off real simple, okay?” Twinkletits continued. “Tell me why you’re here today.”

“You already knows why I ams here. Dey tolds you whens dey sets up de appointsments withs you. Why I gots to says it now?” Skwisgaar looked down at his lap as he spoke, unwilling to even look in the therapist’s direction.

“Yes, I know the reason behind our talk today, but I want to hear you say it, in your own words. Let’s hear what _Skwisgaar_ thinks today is all about, hm? What does _Skwisgaar_ have to say?”

Skwisgaar rolled his eyes and slid a little further down into the couch. “Fines. I…” he stopped, realizing he hadn’t ever said these words aloud. It was nerve-wracking to think he would have to in this instant. He took a deep breath and continued, “I ams here to sees if I ams autistics.”

“Good, then let’s get right to that. Could you describe to me what makes you think you’re on the autism spectrum?”

Skwisgaar paused for a moment to think, still staring intently into his lap. What kind of a question was that? He didn’t even think he was, how could he possibly describe why when he didn’t really believe it himself? And even if he did, where would he even begin with that question? From what little he knew about the condition, there were various facets to it, none of which he could recall at this moment.

“I don’ts knows.” he answered brusquely, truly unsure of what else he could possibly say.

“Come on now, Skwisgaar, I need you to talk about yourself a little bit if you want me to help you. So, how come you don’t know?”

“De question ams too hard. I don’ts know whats to talks about.”

“Okay, that’s fine, that’s all good. I can ask more specific questions if you’d like.”

“Ja.”

“Ok then we’ll start even simpler, the real basic stuff. So here’s my first question; do you have trouble making eye contact? I noticed you haven’t even looked in my direction this entire time.”

Skwisgaar sat back up in the couch, a little surprised at Twinkletits’ statement. Was it that noticeable that he didn’t like to look at people’s faces? He tried in that moment to look over at Twinkletits, looking into the other man’s eyes briefly before lowering his gaze once again to the man’s mouth, the area of the face he preferred to look at when looking at someone was absolutely necessary. “Ja, I...don’ts really looks into people’s eyes dat much. Ors dere faces at all. I likes to just looks down.”

Twinkletits quickly scribbled something in his notes as Skwisgaar began to slightly turn his body to face the therapist. “Sos...whats does dat haves to do withs anything?” he asked, beginning to wonder what Twinkletits was thinking about all of this.

“Well it’s a common symptom, Skwisgaar.” Twinkletits replied bluntly. “But that doesn’t in itself mean I can make a diagnosis just yet. There’s a lot more we have to discuss, okay? Are you ready for the next question?”

Skwisgaar sighed heavily and nodded, uneasy with anxiety over having even more questions than when he first walked in.

“So, what do you do when you feel emotionally or physically overwhelmed? Do you feel like you lose control? Do you have trouble speaking or communicating?”

The guitarist thought back to his behavior over the past few months, since they had brought Toki home. He had completely lost control of his emotions in front of Toki a few weeks prior to this appointment. He had been reduced to a sobbing wreck in the middle of the night as Toki, who was trying to work through some of his own anxiety that night, was forced to comfort him. Skwisgaar also remembered that, even years prior, he had experienced moments where he was so overwhelmed or upset, all he could bring himself to do was strum on on guitar; in those moments, he couldn’t talk no matter how hard he tried.

“Ja I haves dat sometimes, wheres I haves to walks out of meetings or practice and gos to my rooms to plays guitar. I don’ts likes to admigst it, but sometimes I got to cry ors scream, ands sometimes I can’ts talks at all. I yells too, sometimes, dats why I excuse myselfs. I don’ts like de bands seeings me likes dat, I don’ts wants dem to thinks I ams weird.”

He was surprised at how much he had shared with the therapist. He hadn’t told a soul about his cathartic night with Toki, and the two of them hadn’t even discussed it since. But it had been bothering him in the weeks since how he had behaved, he had wanted so badly to stay strong for Toki but he had just felt so overwhelmed by everything around him, from the emotions he was feeling to the texture of his robe. He refused to admit to himself or anyone else how often he would get these attacks.

“Ok, good description. Thats sounds like something called a ‘meltdown’ to me, which happens when an autistic person becomes overwhelmed by sensory input or an emotional situation. Particularly your note that you become nonverbal, and that you play your guitar in these moments. So, let’s get back to that guitar of yours. I’ve got a few questions about that. I’m sure you’re aware of how often you’re seen with it strapped around you, and how often you seem to just start playing out of nowhere. Would you say the guitar could be considered you ‘special interest’?”

Skwisgaar shot a puzzled look at the therapist. “Whats da fucks does that means?”

“Let’s maybe watch our language Skwisgaar, ok? And I’ll explain what I mean. A typical behavior from people on the autism spectrum is to have what is known as a special interest, or a topic or hobby that they have an intense, narrow interest towards. This includes participating in whatever activity this interest allows very often, the intense need to participate even, and the desire to gather information about the topic. In your case, I would think that the guitar would be yours, seeing as how it almost never leaves your side and you seem to dedicate quite a lot of your free time to it. Would you agree?”

The therapist’s words had Skwisgaar frozen in his seat. He gripped the fabric of the couch tightly in his hands as he contemplated his answer. Twinkletits had a point; the guitar had been, for as long as he could remember, all he really cared about, outside of sex, of course. He knew it was obvious to everyone around him that he was pretty attached to his instrument, but clinically so? He hadn’t ever given that a thought, but in that instant, looking back at his behavior through the years, it clicked in his mind that perhaps there was something else at work there. He was the only one in the band to carry his instrument around with him almost everywhere he went and use it as a constant source of comfort, the only musician he knew in any band who took it to that level.

“Skwisgaar, you still need a minute to answer?”

Twinkletits’ voice snapped him back into reality once more, and he didn’t even need to hesitate before answering.

“Ja, dat sounds like me. I plays it all de times, it ams always withs me, it ams...a huge parts of me. I tinks it ams my interests or whatevers.”

“Ok good, I have one more question about the guitar then. I assume you don’t know what the term ‘stimming’ means?”

Skwisgaar shook his head no; it was certainly the first time he’d ever heard that term before.

“Ok, can you tell me what happens when you’re anxious, or bored during band meetings, or even happy or excited? What do you automatically do when you feel any of those things, anything specific?”

“I plays my guitars. I don’ts really thinks about it, I just starts paying. When I ams nervous I plays faster and I sometimes haves to closes my eyes. Dat also why I haves my guitars withs me all de times, in case I needs to plays.”

“Do you do that often?”

“Ja, every days.”

“And you’re talking about times when you’re not practicing?”

“Ja.”

Twinkletits lifted his gaze from his clipboard to look in Skwisgaar’s direction, though the other man still wasn’t quite looking at him.

“Ok, well that does sound a lot like stimming to me. Stimming is something autistic people do as a response to outside stimuli. So it happens when they’re overwhelmed by something, when they’re anxious, but also when they’re happy or excited. It’s usually an automatic response, and can bring comfort to the person doing it.”

The blond man leaned over in his seat to rest his chin in his hands. “Holy shits…” he almost whispered. “Dis ams all me. Maybe this amen’ts bullshits.”

“What’s that, Skwisgaar?”

“Ah, nothings, just...ams surprised how I relates to allsa dis so much. I nevers thoughts about it befores. Just thoughts I was little weirds all dis times, not autistic.”

“Well I’m glad you’re discovering new things today, that’s why we’re here! Are you ready for the next question?”

“Ja.”

Twinkletits continued to ask questions of Skwisgaar as the rest of the hour passed, each one delving deeper into the man’s history and behaviors, his childhood, his social skills, and his relationships. Memories and emotions welled up in Skwisgaar’s mind, and he could barely believe that for each question Twinkletits asked, he actually had an answer that fell in line with what the therapist expected. Question after question, Skwisgaar slowly came to the realization that perhaps he had been wrong; maybe this really was how his brain worked. He almost took solace in the fact that he was so easily able to identify with these questions, in a way he’d never been able to relate to anything else before.

Much sooner than Skwisgaar had expected, the hour was up. Twinkletits continued to jot down notes as Skwisgaar once again slunk into the couch, feeling far less anxious than he had in days. Talking to Twinkletits about all of this made him feel validated, and cleared up questions he had always wanted answers to. Regardless of the answer, he knew he felt better. Though, he had to admit to himself, he still did want to know one way or the other.

Twinkletits’ pen stopped abruptly at the end of a long, messy page of notes that Skwisgaar could barely make out from where he was sitting. He saw a series of checks and x’s next to a set of bulleted items, with notes scribbled between the lines and in the margins, though he couldn’t tell what any of the notes or items said from that distance.

“Ok Skwisgaar, that just about wraps up everything I need from you. Now, I do just want you to know this is a bit of an unusual case. Firstly, because I’ve already known you quite a while, I already have a pretty good idea about your behaviors and temperament over these past few years. Second, because you’re an adult, the things I’m looking for to diagnose you are a bit different, and I have to consider coping methods you’ve learned over the course of your life. Normally I’d have you come back a few more times to be sure, but based on the circumstances and the information you’ve given me today, I think it’s safe to say that you _are_ autistic.”

The blond turned to look the therapist in the face, unsure what to feel at the time. Was he upset about this? It sure didn’t feel like it. He felt numb, unable to process the information just given to him.

“I...kinda can’ts believes it. I means, I know it amen’ts a bad things, but it...ams just hards to...comes to terms withs right away. But I actually feels betters. It...make sense.”

Skwisgaar was legitimately shocked at the wave of relief that washed over him in that moment. By the end of the session he had come to expect this answer from Twinkletits, and it almost felt good to hear it. “Ja, I ams kinda...okays withs dis.”

“Well I’m glad you feel that way, Skwisgaar. I know this probably hasn’t been the easiest day for you, so why don’t you just go take a breather by yourself and figure out where to go from here, hm? I’ll go ahead and put this diagnosis in your file for you, and you don’t have to worry about anything else right now; you’re all done.”

With that, the tall Swede rose from the stiff couch and left the office without a word.

* * *

Skwisgaar hastily made his way towards his bedroom, taking care to avoid any halls he thought his bandmates might be lingering in. He wasn’t ready to see them right now, or anyone else for that matter. Thoughts raced through his mind about what his friends would say to him at this point; he didn’t want to deal with what they might say, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie about it either. When he stopped to think about it, he realized that he actually took comfort in this new piece of his identity, and he certainly wasn’t ashamed of it, but he couldn’t tell his bandmates yet. Not now. Now, he just needed to sit down with his guitar and think for a while.

In one motion he swung open the heavy doors and lunged at his bed, the familiar warmth and fuzz of his white blanket almost instantly taking the edge off his nerves. He reached for the guitar left gingerly on his pillow, and immediately started strumming. Once again he was mindlessly plucking at the strings, however his mind was far from blank in that moment. His messy thoughts ran in various directions; was he playing right now to “stim,” as Twinkletits had called it? He had played whenever he was overwhelmed from the time he first found the guitar, even when he was far from the guitar god he was now, when he still lived with his mother in Sweden.

All other channels of thought ceased instantly; did his mother know anything about this? Surfetta had never been the most attentive parent, Skwisgaar knew, but had she really missed these apparently obvious signs? The resentment he felt towards his mother usually stemmed from her promiscuity affecting his own young life at the time, constantly fighting older men for Surfetta’s attention, but this was different. This was something he could have known so much earlier had she only been there for him at some point in his life. Maybe he wouldn’t have had so many questions about himself. Maybe he wouldn’t have felt like an oddball his entire life, and would have had the tools to better understand himself. Maybe a lot of things would have turned out differently.

“Maybes...I calls her?” Skwisgaar whispered to himself, somewhat surprised he was even pondering this possibility. He hadn’t spoken to his mother since the incident with his stepfather in Sweden, and he had never been on the best terms with her to begin with. “Maybes she dids see somethings.” He reached for the dethphone resting next to him on the bed, but did not pick it up. He knew that whatever he told her could eventually wind up getting back to the press somehow; he didn’t necessarily distrust his mother with this information, but he knew in his heart that she wasn’t the first one he should tell about this.

The first name that came to his mind was Toki. In the months since Toki’s rescue, the band had grown closer as a family, but Toki and Skwisgaar had grown especially close. Skwisgaar was thankful that, after some of the trouble they went through before Toki’s kidnapping, they were finally in a good place with one another again. Even with all the crap he pulled with Toki, Toki had very rarely lost respect for Skwisgaar, and seemed to never stop looking up to him. Skwisgaar knew that of all the band members, Toki was the one he most trusted to not look at him differently after all of this. He also knew, though, that now wasn’t the best time to do so; he was still reeling from the events of the day and desperately needed time to decompress. He continued his autopilot guitar playing and decided to tell Toki first thing in the morning.

* * *

Skwisgaar considered himself lucky that Toki had always been the early riser of the band. The brunet sat alone at the dining table with a large stack of pancakes in front of him, an unfinished model airplane placed on a chair beside him. It was 10 am, “early” for the rest of the band who wouldn’t emerge for at least a few more hours. Toki, however, instinctively kept himself on an early schedule, waking up at a reasonable hour to grab breakfast and relax in the quiet of the haus. Skwisgaar had always regarded his friend’s early bird nature as odd for a metal musician, but he couldn’t have been more thankful for it in this instant.

Stepping carefully through the large wooden doors, Skwisgaar entered the room cautiously, taking care not to startle the younger musician. Toki was so engrossed in his pancakes he didn’t even notice Skwisgaar approach the table.

“Uh...hey, Toki.” Skwisgaar said softly.

“Oh hey Skwisgaar!” Toki chimed. “Whats you doing up so earlys? Oh, you wants a pancake? I gots so manys, shares with me!”

Skwisgaar grabbed a chair and slid it closer to Toki’s seat, and was handed a fork from the smaller man. He poked at the pancakes with the fork and pushed the food around the plate, the weight of what he wanted to tell Toki creating butterflies in his stomach.

“Sos…” Skwisgaar started, staring at the food on his fork. “I, uh, wents to sees Twinkletits yesterdays.”

“Oh, how dids dat go?” Toki inquired.

“Wells, I gonna bes honest withs you, Toki, because I trusts you. I talk to him abouts a lots of things, and he tolds me dat I actually ams autistic.”

Toki had stopped eating and was staring intently at Skwisgaar, making the blond man feel uneasy. Had he made a mistake in telling Toki?

“So, ja…” he continued, trying to dispel the awkwardness between them, eyes once again cast down towards the table. “I thoughts I was goings to be upsets if he tolds me dat, but I actually feels good about it. It mades a lot of sense, and it sounds dildos, but I feels likes I actually knows myselfs more now.”

Skwisgaar continued to stare at the plate as anxiety began to well up in him. He felt consumed with fear that perhaps he shouldn’t have said anything at all. These fears were immediately expelled as soon as he felt Toki’s strong arms surround him and pull him close.

“I am so happys for you, Skwisgaar.” Toki whispered. “I felts the same way when Twinkletits tolds me about the PTSD, I felt like I finally understoods what my brain ams doing. I thinks you gonna be much happier nows that you know.”

The blond was overcome with relief at Toki’s kind words, almost ashamed that he had doubted the man for even a second. His stomach settled down quite a bit, and he was finally able to take a bite of his now torn to pieces pancake. Toki released him from their hug, but left his hand on the swede’s shoulder.

“So, ams I the only one whats knows about this?” Toki asked earnestly.

“Ja, you ams de only ones I told. Not sure I gonna tells anyone else, worrieds about whats dey gonna says about me. I knows you won’ts sees me no differently, but...I amen’ts so sures about de others. Dey ams kinda judgmentals.”

“I am sures dey will understands, Skwisgaar. We ams all closer now, and no one said nothings when I gots my PTSD diagnosis. Dey mades fun of me for the clown things but nots for my brain.”

“Ja, I guess. If dey brings it up I says something, den.”

“Yeah I thinks you should. I mean, dey all knows you wanted to haves the appointsment anyway.”

“Ja, I forgots about dat.” Skwisgaar chuckled as he spoke. Something about being around Toki these days tended to calm him down without either of them even trying, and he definitely needed that kind of interaction today.

* * *

Toki was laughing rather violently at whatever was on the television, bringing a smile to Skwisgaar’s face. He loved seeing his friend so happy; he knew he deserved it after everything the man had been through in his life, particularly his ordeal only months ago. While not nearly as entertained as the smaller man, Skwisgaar did feel content with how the day had gone so far. He was happy that Toki had barely reacted to his revelation, hoping this meant nothing would be weird between the two of them with this new information.

In the middle of his thought, he realized Pickles and Murderface were walking into the room, arguing about something he couldn’t quite make out. They sat down on the opposite end of the couch from the guitarists, completely consumed in whatever conversation they were having. Skwisgaar decided this would be as good a time as any to talk to his bandmates about his diagnosis. He was a little unsure of telling them both at once, but hoped that, with how close they had all become recently, they would react as mildly as Toki did.

“You guys gots a minute?” Skwisgaar asked them both. “I, uh, gots to talks to you abouts something.”

“Yeah sure dood, what’s the prahblem?” Pickles asked.

“Wells,” Skwisgaar started, still hesitating to form the words towards anyone but Toki. “I wents to see Twinkletits yesterdays. Torns out all dems fans was rights, I ams autistics. Sos...yeah.”

Just like when he told Toki, there was a long pause after Skwisgaar’s reveal. He knew better than to expect the same reaction from these two as Toki had shown him; as close as the band had grown recently, Toki was still the only one who seemed unphased by physical contact.

“Scho that’s why you’re scho fuckin’ weird.” Murderface stated bluntly. Skwisgaar stared blankly in his direction, absolutely flabbergasted that _this_ was how the bassist chose to respond to this sensitive piece of information.

“I knew yer guitar thing wasn’t normal!” Pickles exclaimed. “Or, well, what I mean is, I totally saw this coming when we watched the Dethklahk Minute the other day.”

Another long pause followed Pickles’ remarks. Talking to Toki had been easy; the brunet had been so supportive, and made Skwisgaar feel confident in his decision to tell him. What the hell was he supposed to do with these reactions? He instantly regretted even breaching the subject, but it was too late to turn back now.

“So, weird question I know, but, ah gotta know…” Pickles asked carefully. “You think this is gonna have any impact on yer sex life?”

“Yeah you know, are the ladies gonna think you’re schuch a schex god now?”

“Ams you fuckins kiddings me right now.” Skwisgaar mumbled under his breath.

“No wonder the only thing he’sch good as isch the guitar!”

“Dood knahk it off, people like him are like geniuses with music, I saw that on TV!”

“Cans you alls just shut the fu-”

“Fucks you both!” Toki interjected, completely cutting off Skwisgaar’s own frustrated cries. “This ams dildos! You thinks he ams suddenly a different persons now!?”

“No, I schaid he’sch _always_ been fucking weird!”

“Well he amen’ts weird, just differents!”

“ENOUGHS!” Skwisgaar shouted as he rose quickly from the couch. The room fell silent as all eyes fixated on him, the three other men startled by his sudden outburst. “This ams such fuckings bullshit, yous all talkings about me likes I amen’ts even here! Whats, you think yous all betters den me now? Fucks you!”

Skwisgaar plodded heavily towards the door as Nathan came into the room, clearly baffled by the three stunned men on the couch and the enraged Swede moving swiftly towards him.

“What the hell did I miss?” Nathan asked as Skwisgaar stomped closer.

“Fuckins dildosk, dats what.” Skwisgaar replied without looking at Nathan. When he got to the door he whipped around, and the other men could see that his face was twisted with rage. "Lets me knows when you ams all ready to treats me likes a fuckings persons again!" he shouted, tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

He slammed the door behind him, and could be heard cursing through the hall until his voice finally faded into the distance.

“But actually, what the fuck was that?” Nathan asked again, this time directed at the couch.

“Beats the shit outta me!” Pickles replied. “We were just tahlkin’ to him and he stormed ahff!”

“No, you was askings him bullshits questions ands he got mad!” Toki yelled accusingly in his direction.

“Ok. But what were you talking about? He seemed really fucking pissed.”

“Well, he told us that the Dethklahk Minute host was right, Twinkletits diagnosed him. Ahll I did was ask a few feckin’ questions and he flipped out on us!”

“You asked abouts his fucking sex life! And Moidaface calleds him weirds! Of course he gots pissed!”

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who schpoke over him, Toki! He tried to schtand up for himschelf and you didn’t even let him talk!”

“I...I was just tryings to help! You were the ones beings dildos!”

“You’re _all_ being dildos, you assholes!” Nathan shouted to the group. “Ugh. Great. I’m gonna go talk to him. But seriously. That wasn’t cool, guys.”

* * *

Skwisgaar threw open the door and collapsed onto his bed, not even bothering to slam the door behind him. He felt drained, and wanted nothing more than to sleep the rest of the day away and forget all of this had happened. He didn’t even have the stamina to play his guitar, even though he knew it would make him feel better. The numbness he felt was just too overwhelming, and all he could do was lay in the center of the bed and stare at the cavernous ceiling. His heavy eyelids closed loosely as his formerly erratic breathing began to slow, and he had collected himself enough to process the situation.

He was kicking himself for ever saying anything in the first place. _Of course_ the others would be insensitive about it; no matter how close they had gotten recently, their personalities had remained the same. Skwisgaar didn’t know why he had expected anything different. But Toki...Toki’s behavior shocked the hell out of him. He knew his friend was trying to help, but to continue to talk about him while he was sitting right there, to talk over him when he tried to stand up for himself...he wondered if Toki really did see him differently now.

Heavy plodding footsteps from down the hall forced Skwisgaar’s attention to the open door, where Nathan stood sternly outside.

“Skwisgaar! I’m gonna come in now, okay?”

Skwisgaar sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Nathan walked over to the bed, but refrained from sitting with the blond; he knew full well that Skwisgaar never liked to have people in his room, let alone sit with him on his bed, and he wanted to respect that.

“You not goings to ask a dildos questions too, ams you?” Skwisgaar asked with scorn as he looked up towards Nathan. His eyes were tinted red, and Nathan could see faint tear stains dotting his cheeks.

“No, those guys were being dicks. I just wanted to, uh, tell you something. You know, trying to help or whatever.”

The Swede’s gaze remained on Nathan; he wasn’t sure the vocalist could offer any help at this point, but he was willing to listen.

“I just...I felts so much betters whens Twinkletits tolds me dats I was reallys autistic. I didn’ts thinks I woulds feels dat way, but it all starteds to makes sense. I felts like I hads an answers, I felts goods. Dey all just fuckins ruined it fors me.”

“I get what you mean. Finally getting to understand yourself after a long time. I know how that feels.” Nathan paused for a moment to make sure that Skwisgaar was still paying attention to what he was saying. “You know, they gave me the same diagnosis when I was a kid. I think I was, I dunno, two or something when they told my parents.”

Skwisgaar shot a look back to Nathan, unsure of how to respond to this revelation. “Waits, you toos?”

“Yeah, and when I was old enough to understand what it meant, I was kinda freaked out. I thought I was some fucking freak that no one would want to be around. I thought it was obvious to everyone else. But then I realized that I didn’t give a fuck. I didn’t care that I was weird, I was fucking _awesome_. I _am_ awesome. Being autistic isn’t bad, it just means you have different stuff to deal with than regular jackoffs. In your case, it probably even helped make you into a guitar god. So fuck those guys. You know who you are. You’re fucking cool.”

A smile slowly crept across Skwisgaar’s sullen face. Feeling accomplished, Nathan left Skwisgaar to his thoughts and walked out the door. As he walked through the doorframe, he saw Toki pressed against the wall, his face pale with anxiety. It had been obvious to everyone that Toki and Skwisgaar shared some sort of special bond, though it was still up to speculation as to what that bond was. Regardless, Nathan knew it was important for the two of them to patch things up if Toki had offended in any way, and so Nathan gestured to Toki that it was his turn to talk to the man. Toki nodded back, and approached the door.

“Uh, Skwisgaar? Cans I comes in?”

Skwisgaar was a bit startled to see Toki peering through his doorframe from the hall, but wasn’t at all surprised that the man had come to see him.

“Ja, Toki. Comes in.”

Toki cautiously approached the bed, and unlike Nathan, sat directly next to Skwisgaar. he reached out to put a hand around the man, and when he was met with no resistance or protest, leaned closer and put his arm around the blond’s back. They sat together for a minute before Toki had calmed down sufficiently to speak his mind.

“Skwisgaar, I just cames to say that...I’m so sorrys for beings such a dick, and I’m sorrys for making you feel likes you amen’ts a person. I thoughts I was helping, but I knows you can stands up for yourself. I just...I cares about you.”

Skwisgaar leaned his head on the smaller man’s shoulder. “I knows, Toki.”

“So, you don’ts hate me?”

“Nos Toki, I don’ts hates you. I just don’ts wants to be treateds differents.”

“I promise I won’ts do that, Skwisgaar. You never dids that to me, and I woulds never dos that to you.”

Toki put his other arm around around Skwisgaar’s torso and pulled him in tighter.

“Oh!” Toki exclaimed. “I forgots, the others ams all sorry too. They lets me come first buts they wanteds to apologize.”

“Ja, well, I appreckiates dat, buts to bes honest, I amen’ts in the moods to talks to no one else rights now. Dey cans tells me demselves later. I gots to takes a nap or somethings now.”

“Ok, does you wants me to leave?” Toki asked earnestly.

Skwisgaar could feel his cheeks blushing a bit again. “You don’ts haves to. You can stays and watch TV ins here or somethings. Just no mores Dethklok Minutes todays, please.”

Toki chuckled and went to close the door to the room. He turned on Skwisgaar’s television, and the guitarists laid back in Skwisgaar’s massive bed. Skwisgaar started to close his eyes, but could hear Toki laughing softly at whatever show he had turned on. His eyes fully closed, he felt a hand lightly push the hair off his face. He smiled to himself again, thankful that he could breathe easily again, knowing he could be completely himself around Toki. He closed his eyes and turned to face Toki, able to fall asleep calmly for the first time in days.


End file.
